


Ocean’s View

by Anais_Silveas



Category: Batman (Comics), Birds of Prey (And the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn) (2020), Harley Quinn (Cartoon 2019), Harley Quinn (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Edward Nygma, Bisexual Harley Quinn, Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Harley Lives on the streets of Gotham for three days, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lesbian Pamela Isley, Slow Burn, Trans Female Character, Trans Harley Quinn, but it’s not explored, cis Pamela Isley, women’s shelters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28376439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anais_Silveas/pseuds/Anais_Silveas
Summary: It was storming, rain and hail pelting down on the Gotham streets, people knew better than to be out, knew that there were dangerous folks that liked to roam after dark, but Harley was running. Her sneakers pounded against the asphalt, sending vibrations rattling up her spine, and into her skull. Harley ran, and ran, and kept running, tears mixing with the falling rain, almost freezing against her cheeks. Harley ran, she ran until she couldn’t  anymore, and she fell against a wall, once a bright orange, but faded now, ravaged by time, and the burden of poverty. She heard a voice after a moment, coming from the doorway: “Come on in,” a woman said, her accent lilting into the night “We’ll get a fire going, get some warm food in your belly, then you can tell me your story if you want, if not- There’s a pretty good view of the ocean.”
Relationships: Jack Napier/ Harleen Quinzel, Joker (DCU)/Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley & Harleen Quinzel, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Selina Kyle/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 35





	1. Finding a View of the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning: Domestic Violence, Misogynistic slurs, Homelessness.
> 
> Jack Napier is a Bastard.
> 
> If any of the above is triggering, skip the beginning and begin after the three pound signs (hashtags) ###
> 
> Please know your limits and be safe, the world is scary enough without having to be reminded of trauma.  
> Love, AnaisSilveas

Harley was living the high life, she was free from responsibility, free of her family, free of social convention, she lay on the plush, velvet couch her “Mistah J” had bought her, bottle of Smirnoff in one hand, and NyQuil in the other, as though weighing them in her mind.

_Which to drink? Which to drink?_ Came the thoughts, unbidden, speaking in her consciousness with a high pitched squeal

The decision was postponed by the loud slamming of the front door. Jack Napier stormed into the apartment, furiously shouting, calling for Harley, who jumped up, faster than necessary, only to be knocked back onto the couch by the force of Jack’s hand. This wasn’t the first time Jack had hit her, she knew she shouldn’t respond, shouldn’t ask for a reason- it only invited more suffering, more pain, but against her better judgement, she asked

“What- what’s goin on puddin?”

“What’s going on?! What’s going on?! My God, you useless slut! What’s going on is that you- you fucking bitch- you should’ve been put there with me, helping me sell this shit! Where were you instead? Here! Getting stoned on fucking cough syrup! Get the fuck outta my house! Go! If I ever see you here again, your pretty little face will have a few more scars.” Napier screamed, yanking Harley up by her hair, and dragging her to the door.

###

_Three days later_

It was storming, rain and hail pelting down on the Gotham streets, people knew better than to be out, knew that there were dangerous folks that liked to roam after dark, but Harley was running. Her sneakers pounded against the asphalt, sending vibrations rattling up her spine, and into her skull. Harley ran, and ran, and kept running, tears mixing with the falling rain, almost freezing against her cheeks. Harley ran, she ran until she couldn’t anymore, and she fell against a wall, once a bright orange, but faded now, ravaged by time, and the burden of poverty. She heard a voice after a moment, coming from the doorway: “Come on in,” a woman said, her accent lilting into the night “We’ll get a fire going, get some warm food in your belly, then you can tell me your story if you want, if not- There’s a pretty good view of the ocean.”

Harley looked over to see the woman greeting her, she was tall and thin, backlit by the porch light, her hair stood out, it was bright red, warm and inviting, her eyes were green, and she held out a soft looking hand in invitation.

Harley stood shakily, having a hard time processing the fact that someone was being kind to her, people weren’t kind to people like her, people scoffed at people like her, they saw the ragged, knotted hair, the shoddy self-done tattoos, the filthy short shorts, the trans flag bracelet; and they averted their eyes. Being kind to someone that looked like Harley was uncommon at best, and suspicious at worst.

_What if she’s a murderer? Or a kidnapper? Sex trafficker? Pimp? What if-_

Harley’s thought process was interrupted by a small child, he was young, maybe six or seven, his hair was dark, brown or black, but it was hard to tell in the low light. His eyes shone in the porch light, emerald green, and his skin was tanned, Arab origin, if Harley had to guess. The little boy stepped carefully down the steps to the building, a soft fleece blanket tied around his throat like a cape and took Harley’s hand saying “It’s okay, miss Pamela will take of you, warm food, and a bed to sleep in are things everyone deserves, says miss Pamela. I’m Damian, I’ve lived here for-“ Damian paused, thinking for a moment, “Seven months,” he finished

“Come inside, hun.” Pamela said, smiling at the young boy

Inside was warm, inside was safe, and inside really did have a great view of the ocean. In the corner of the front room was a reading bench, stacked with quilts and knitted afghans. The window was framed in some warm, orange wood, and looked directly out over Gotham bay, where even in the rain, several sailboats floated peacefully.

After a few minutes, Pamela stepped silently out of the kitchen, and handed Harley a paper plate filled with roasted vegetables over rice, and a mug full of warm tea. She also kissed Damian on the top of his head and shooed him upstairs to bed.

“I hope that’s alright, I wasn’t sure if you had any food allergies, or food aversions, so I just grabbed the simplest thing I made tonight.” Pamela said softly, trying her best not to spook her new guest

“Oh, um, it’s great thank you,” Harley said between forkfuls of the first warm meal she’d had in days

“No uh... no aversions, although I do have a sensitivity to gelatin, peanuts, and pork

“Alright, no bacon, peanuts or Jello, good to know. Anything else you wanna tell me? No pressure, but a name might be helpful.”

“Um... H... Harley.”

Pamela smiled, her lips lifting easily. Harley remembered when she could smile like that, not just producing empty grins at Jack’s comments, or fake laughs when he “joked”

_You’re not safe here. Get out. Get out!_ Came the voice in Harley’s head, but she managed to ignore it for the present

“Well, Harley I’m going to go run you a bath, and try to find some warmer clothes that might fit you... I think some of Barbara’s old things might work. They’ll be waiting for you once you finish eating. If you need anything else from me tonight, just knock, my room’s right at the top of the stairs, and the bathroom is at the end of the hall on the left, I have an empty room ready just across from it that you may use. I hope to see you for breakfast.” Pamela said, standing slowly

“W... wait... who... what... how-“ Harley began, but Pamela cut her off, saying

“I’ll answer all of your questions in the morning, after introductions, I promise, for now, eat, bathe, and rest, you look like you need it.”

“Thank you.” Harley managed, holding in tears of gratitude

Pamela nodded and gently walked upstairs

Harley was taking things in stride, she felt a little more human than she had the past three days, her stomach was filled with more than a granola bar and the acidic rainwater that fell in Gotham, she had managed to clean herself in a bath that was neither too hot, nor too cold, and was given a clean tanktop, underwear, and a pair of pajama bottoms. A thought crossed Harley’s mind, one simple and unobtrusive, one that simply recognized the validation she felt upon being given women’s underwear, even though she’d been through the extent of her transition years before. Gender euphoria is a wonderful thing. The night was filled with bad dreams, and bad memories, but a warm bed, and a warm settling in Harley’s stomach, and a longing for something- she wasn’t sure what.

**_The next morning_ **

Pamela Isley searched her cabinets diligently, searching for something worthy of breakfast for _all_ of her guests, she went down the list she’d made in her mind:

_Damian- Halal and vegan, no bacon, no eggs, no butter or cheese_

_Eddy- nothing overwhelming, no oatmeal, or cereal, safefoods include Pb &J’s, and cheesesticks_

_Jason- no food allergies, but doesn’t care for mushrooms or kale_

_Cassandra- allergic to soy, but not almonds_

_Harley- sensitive to peanuts, gelatin, and pork_

Pamela smiled and gently pulled down her vegan cookbook, flipping through it carefully until she found the bookmarked recipe for pancakes.

Twenty minutes later, Harley stumbled down the stairs towards the smell of warm, golden, griddled batter, she looked almost like a cartoon character, floating on the wisps of scent towards something delicious. Harley’s bare feet registered the transition from soft carpet to cold kitchen tile entirely too quickly for her taste, and let out a soft whine and a frown as she left the warmth of the carpet.

“Are you alright, Harley?” Pamela’s soft voice asked, stationary at the oven range

“Hmmm, yes ma’am, just miss the warm.” Harley responded, slowly opening her eyes. In the light of sunrise, the... house? looked different, more welcoming, Harley took in the kitchen space and squealed, it was exactly the type of kitchen she’d dreamt of as a little girl, cozy but not small, old appliances, but well kept, a soft wooden aesthetic and black and white square tiles on the floor.

“Are you okay?” Pamela asked, panicking, she wasn’t used to the intricacies of her newest guest, and wanted nothing more for her to feel safe, if she’d done anything to-

“I LOVE! Your kitchen, Pammy! Oh it’s just like I dreamed I would have when I was a lil girl!” Harley explained

“Oh, thank you, I was worried I’d upset you somehow.”

“Upset me? I don’t understand.”

Pamela turned back around and flipped a pancake, before saying “You will, after introductions are made. Go ahead and sit down, I’ll make some coffee, and we can wait for the others to come down.”

Slowly, over the period of the next half hour, the other four guests in the house came downstairs and into the kitchen, where Harley had helped Pamela set a table that was meant for four people. Each of the other guests gave Harley the sideye, except for little Damian, who still wore his blanket cape, and sat right next to the blonde, happily chattering away to himself after a quick “good morning.”

Breakfast went fast, Pancakes were easy food for all the gathered guests, and all were hungry, once food and drinks were finished, Pamela invited Harley to introduce herself.

“Oh, uh... hey, I’m Harley... uh Quinn. I’ve lived in Gotham all my life... um...” Harley held up her left wrist before continuing, saying “She-slash-her pronouns, if you don’t mind, I’m not really sure why Miss Pamela here has let me into your home.”

The black haired kid with burning blue eyes sitting across from Harley snorted, and said “She has a compulsive need to pick strays off the street. I’m Jason, Jason Todd, I’m sixteen, been here since I was... Twelve? Miss Isley?”

“Yea, Jason, Twelve.” Pamela answered.

Another teenager spoke up, her hair was black, and her eyes dark as well, she said “I’m Cassandra Cain I’m... um...” Cassandra signed something to Pamela, who signed back, and Cassandra continued, saying “Seventeen, been here for three years.”

The redheaded boy, who had been silent, and was fiddling with, what looked like, a fidget cube, stood up, looked directly past Harley and said “My Name’s Eddy, I’m fourteen, nice to meet you.”

“You too, Eddy.” Harley replied

“You know me. I’m Damian, you can call me Dami if you want.” Damian spoke up next to her

“Well alright, Dami.” Harley said, smiling genuinely “still not sure what this place is though, and why I’m here.”

“I told you, Miss Isley has a habit of picking up strays, but she helps us, keeps us off the street, out of the system, understands some of us need... a little extra help.” Jason said, Eddy raised his hand at the “extra help” part, and Harley immediately understood

“So this is a shelter, then, some sorta halfway house for homeless kids?”

“And Abused women.” Pamela said pointedly

“Ah” was all Harley managed

“Alright, kids need to get you ready for school, Dick and Barbara should be here any minute to pick you up.”

“Oh come on, do we have to go? We just got a new guest!” Jason said, while Cassandra signed faster than Harley could even process, and Eddy slumped into his seat. Damian, the good child, hopped down from his chair and ran upstairs

“Yes, you do Jason and Cassandra. Eddy, you have to go and keep an eye on them, make sure they don’t get into any trouble.”

Eddy and Harley both snickered at that, while Pamela ushered the teens out of the kitchen and upstairs. Harley stepped cautiously out into the front room, which she also beheld in much more detail, there were two love seats in the room, both well worn and from different furniture sets. There was also a brown leather recliner, pointed at an angle towards the fireplace. The walls were a dusty blue color, trimmed at the top and bottom with dark wood, a combo record player and radio sat against the wall, next to the reading bench and the window. All along the other walls were haphazardly sorted bookshelves, filled with textbooks, fiction novels, and cellphone chargers.

Harley stepped over to the reading bench, and nuzzled into it, yelping when she felt something dig into her thigh. Harley dug at whatever it was, and pulled a Barron’s AP Psych practice book from below one of the pillows. She wished she had grabbed her glasses before Jack had kicked her out, she wanted so badly to read some of this, to remind herself what dreams she’d had, but the text was too small, too blurry. A horn honked outside, and all four kids stampeded down the stairs, but Cassandra lagged behind looking for something, in her overwhelmed state, she started signing frantically at Pamela, who was walking down behind them.

“Honey, honey, slow down, what book are you looking for?” Pamela asked

Harley, watching from the corner and knowing just enough sign language caught the letters “P” “S” “Y” and stood up, holding the Barron’s book out to Cassandra

“Talking about this, darling?” She asked

Cassandra grabbed the book, and threw her arms around Harley quickly before rushing out the door after the other three.

Pamela laughed, before saying “sorry, they’re all a little touchy-feely once you get to know ‘em.”

“No worries. They seem great.” Harley replied

“So, should we talk?” Pamela asked, gesturing toward a love seat


	2. Low Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pamela and Harley Talk, Harls has a panic attack and takes a nap, and Pam calls an old friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Description of a panic attack from a POV character, discussion of implied rape/sexual assault
> 
> Again, please know your limits, I changed the tags to include this chapter, so make sure you’ve read them as well. Stay safe folks, brighter times are ahead.  
> Love, AnaisSilveas

Harley sat down on the love seat next to Pamela carefully, fully afraid to do anything wrong. She felt a headache broiling up behind her eyes, and longed to shut them, just for a little while, let them rest to prevent any pain, but she was afraid of disrespecting her host.

“You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, I promise. I can infer quite a bit just by looking. If you don’t talk to me, please talk to someone, I’m not a therapist or a counselor or anything, but I do want to help you, I want to get you on your feet, and away from people who might want to hurt you, if I have to.” Pamela said, curling her knees under her.

“This is... Low Tide, it’s the lowest place you can be right now, but my job is to help you change things, turn things around, turn low tide into high tide.”

Harley processed for a moment, let Pamela’s words fill her mind, and she slowly answered, saying “I’m... not sure I can tell you everything in order... Time is... hard for me, memories are difficult... it’s a little jumbled. I can do... question for question. I answer one, you answer one.”

“Okay, I can absolutely do that. You wanna go first?”

“Umm... okay, what... made you wanna help people?”

Pamela smiled and then said “I know what it’s like to be... hurt, rejected, by someone who you thought cared about you, because I was. For a long time after that, I hated people, hated everyone, until one day I thought I could trust someone again, and was hurt again, but that time, I saw how... resilient people could be when someone dragged me into a support group. When people who are hurt are given a support network, and people they can truly rely on, they get better, they knowingly put in the work to be better. It’s... inspiring.” Pamela rubbed her palm against her leg, with a faraway look in her eye, but then, she shook herself out of it, and asked “You said you’d lived in Gotham your whole life, what was it like growing up here?”

“Gotham was... different when I was a kid, nicer I think, although that might be the nostalgia talking... still dangerous, crime capital of the world, but it was less... murder, rape, kidnapping, and more... Smalltime gangs, drugs, and a mafia visit once or twice. I went to school, came home watched tv with Ma and Pa, it was normal little kid stuff, until the cops found out Pa’s construction business was launderin money, and Pa held a longtime gambling debt to the mob he was launderin money for, it was ugly, but me and Ma made it through, barely managed to keep the house... I was in high school at the time, had plans to go on to college, get a PhD or somethin’ I had to drop out, get a job to help Ma pay the bills.”

Harley’s word vomit had taken her farther than she had meant to go, deeper into her trouble than Miss Isley needed to be burdened with, and she sank into herself, but curiosity wouldn’t be sated, so she asked “How’d you get so good with the kids?”

It took a moment for Pamela to answer, but when she did it came out soft “Trial and Error mostly,” she said

“Dick and Barbara were my first two, that was... hell, ten years ago. Barbara’s dad had taken in Dick after his parents’ car accident, but then he was gunned down in a police raid, and they had nowhere to go... I was still a lab tech then, I had no idea what to do, but... I couldn’t say no, they were kids, they were in middle school, I watched them get on the bus to school everyday... Dick had some trouble speaking after that, so we learned ASL to make it easier, and Barbara couldn’t even look at lasagna after losing her dad, so I learned how to manage food aversions. I fucked up a lot with those two... but I always did my best to fix it, and they turned out great. Barbara’s a journalist now, she writes big articles about crime busts, or heroin trafficking, and Dick is a big time prosecutor, he puts bad guys in prison. Somehow, thank goodness, they still manage to pick up the kids and take them to school everyday.”

Harley watched Pamela’s lips twitch up into an involuntary smile while she talked about Dick and Barbara, saw the way she visibly relaxed into the memories, and felt a tug in her chest, a longing, she now realized, to be a part of something, a part of this. Pamela coughed slightly before saying “Would you... Would you tell me, if I asked about... who hurt you?”

Harley felt her mind go blank, saw herself shutting down, as though she were somewhere else, a third party watching the scene. Her breath was shuddering, and her heart was beating too fast, beating out of her chest. In a flash, Pamela was kneeling next to her, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her knee, and she was talking quietly, she trying to get Harley’s attention, saying “Harley, I need you back here, I need you present, tell me five things you can see.”

Harley took as deep a breath as she could and answered “Blue paint on the walls, red hair, green eyes, Colorful quilts, books.”

Harley’s heart was already slowing down, and her breath steadying, but Pamela continued,

“Alright, four things you can feel.”

“Couch cushion, blanket on the back of the couch, your hands, the ends of your hair.”

“Good, now three things you hear.”

“Your voice... waves outside, and a bird chirping.”

“Good job, do we need to keep going, or are you back?”

“I’m back... thank you, I’ve never... no one’s ever... done that for me.”

“Well, panic attacks aren’t fun, and neither is dissociating. Present and comfortable are always better than floaty and scared, okay? So if you ever need help, please let someone know, me or Jason, or Cassandra, will always help. If Eddy’s the only one around, he’ll call and one of us will be there as fast as we can. I promise. You never have to be alone if you don’t want.”

Harley nodded, and then said “do.. do you mind if I take a nap? I... I don’t have my glasses, so my head hurts, and I’m very tired.”

“Go ahead, honey. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse down here, let me know-“ Pamela began, but Harley cut her off

“If I need anything, I will.”

Pamela flopped back onto the love seat and sighed once she heard the door to Harley’s room close.

_At least she can talk, I wouldn’t have gotten nearly as far with Cassandra if I hadn’t learned sign language for Dick_ Pamela thought _No, this is closer to a Jason situation, with a little bit of Eddy thrown in._

Pamela shivered, feeling wind blow in through the cracks in the window frame, so she stood up and lit the fire, making sure that the grate was locked, so no one could burn themselves - accidentally or on purpose, since they’d had that issue before - and she walked through the kitchen into her small office on the other side. Pamela knew she owed Selina a call, so she slipped the cheap smartphone out of her pocket and double tapped her old friend’s face.

“Selina, Hey!” Pamela said once the line picked up

“Hey there Friend, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Selina replied playfully

“I just figured I owed you a phone call, let you know what’s going on.”

“I see, well alright then, how’re things at your little bed and breakfast?”

“Bruce is in the room isn’t he? I’ll call back later, I don’t want-“

“Calm down, he’s leaving, I’ll never understand why you keep refusing his help Pamela.”

“Because he doesn’t want to Help! He wants to make a big flashy donation to a cause he doesn’t care about so he looks good!”

“He cares-“

“No he doesn’t! If he cared, he wouldn’t be a billionaire, he’d be distributing some of his fucking wealth so that none of my guests would be on the street in the first fucking place!”

The call was silent for a moment, the only sound being Pamela’s angry breath

“I didn’t call to fight, Selina. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, love. Why did you call?”

“I wanted to tell you about my latest guest.”

“How old are they this time?”

“Um... late twenties to mid thirties? She’s... she’s obviously been through a lot, domestic violence for sure, judging from the scars.”

“Scars?”

“Yeah... they’re ragged, and across both cheeks, but they’re crescent shaped, like...”

“Fingernails.” Selina finished when Pamela trailed off

“They’re on her thighs too, Selina... her inner thighs, like someone... like they... like they held her legs apart.”

Pamela’s voice broke, and she felt herself trembling with rage

“Pam! It’s okay, look, tell me what you know about her, I’ll find out whatever I can, make sure whatever bastard did this to her is put away.” Selina said

“I... I don’t know if I can, Selina... it’s... it’s an invasion of privacy, I want her to trust me. She needs to be able to trust someone after everything she’s been through.”

“Pamela! She _needs_ to get this motherfucker thrown in prison!”

“Listen, you wanna do me a favor, Sel’ tell me someplace cheap where we can get her an eye exam.”

“Pam, you know I’ll happily pay for anything medical you guys need, I don’t care how much it costs.”

“Just... tell me someplace cheap.”

“I’ll see what I can find and call you back, think about what I said okay?”

“Okay.”

Harley woke up a few hours later, she was once again greeted by the smell of delicious food and scrambled downstairs. Pamela smiled when she heard the woman’s footsteps on the stairs, and prepared for some explosion of energy.

Harley was already talking as she rounded the corner, saying “Oh My God, Pammy that smells so good! What is it?”

Pamela chuckled and answered, saying “I’ve been... baking, I have some cookies in the oven, but if you’re looking for something finished- I bake bread once a week. I recommend it with some of the local honey on top of the fridge.”

Pamela let Harley retrieve her snack before launching into her next subject by saying “I heard you mention you didn’t have your glasses?”

“Oh, yeah - Hey Pam, er... Miss Isley - this is delicious.” Harley said

“Pam, or Pamela is fine, Harley. You don’t have to call me Miss Isley, and thank you, I worked a long time to perfect that recipe. Anyway, your glasses?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m s’post to wear ‘em, ever since I hit my head on a boat, but I... didn’t bring ‘em with me, and it’s a little blurry, and my eyes are workin’ overtime.”

“Well, my friend told me about an optometrist nearby, says she’s the best in Gotham. I’d be happy to get you an appointment.”

“Oh... no, I couldn’t, I don’ wanna... uh... be any sorta burden, uh...”

“Harley, if you’re worried about the cost, don’t be. I want to help you, remember? Please, let me.”

“Oh... okay, it... would be nice, I miss readin’.”


	3. Riptide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harley gets new glasses, and a new feeling, and then she does something impulsive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this... pretty late last night, so I forgot to add any notes, so here they are:
> 
> I don’t have any content warnings I can specifically drum up for this chapter, things get a little hot and heavy towards the middle and end, so if you’re not interested know that.
> 
> Special Shout-out to tedusa, their high school AU “Your Voice is Like Pomegranate Wine” has been keeping me alive, I’ve read it like... three times now.
> 
> Stay safe, Be Kind, Love as much as you’re able.  
> Love, AnaisSilveas

The rest of that day went by smoothly, Harley and Pamela called the optometrist, who understood the predicament, and easily said she wouldn’t charge for an eye exam. The kids arrived back home not long after that, and shuffled through the door looking exhausted. Jason and Cassandra barely made it to the love seats in the den before collapsing, Eddy carefully sat his backpack against the wall, waved at Harley and Pamela without looking up, and disappeared upstairs, and Damian walked over to Pamela, hugged her, set his head against her side, and tried to fall asleep there and then.

Harley smiled at the domesticity and once again felt that tug in her chest, that longing to be a part of this family. As the night went on, after all the kids had their rest, Harley found herself watching Pamela more closely, found herself not observing, but admiring. Harley remembered wanting to help people the way Pam was. She remembered dreaming about working at a school somewhere, talking kids through their issues, but dreams are dreams for a reason.

Harley was shaken from her thoughts by Pamela’s voice, asking “Hey, Harley? You any good with Latin homework?”

“I’m not the worst? I won’t be able to read it though.” Harley replied

“I can read it to you.” Jason answered

And that was how Harley spent the evening, correcting tenses, fixing plurals, and translating the gist of a story about mules.

The next day was Harley’s eye exam, Pamela and Harley drove there in the car they borrowed from Dick, and the exam itself was over in forty five minutes, which meant Harley had more than enough time to find a pair of frames she liked. She energetically bounced from wall to wall inside the store, trying on as many brightly colored, ostentatious frames as she could, until her eyes landed on one: the perfect frames. Cat-eye lenses greeted her from across the store, the front frames were jet black, but the plastic running down the ear-pieces were printed with a red and black checker pattern. Harley gasped when she saw them, they were beautiful. Thanks to an in-store lens lab, the lenses were finished by noon, so Pamela asked Harley if she’d like to go out for lunch, to which Harley replied “I know a great asian place not even two blocks from here.”

Pamela drove the two blocks, following Harley’s instructions, and they parked in a strangely spartan parking lot, maybe one or two other cars were parked in the same lot with them. Pamela saw the name of the place and recognized it, but stayed quiet. Harley, on the other hand, was nearly doing cartwheels to the front door, the thought of introducing Pamela to a restaurant she liked excited her, and Harley had always had trouble getting excited about things. It’d been easier though, at Pamela’s.

As they walked through the front door, they were greeted by an overly perky white chick, her blonde hair rolled into dreads, with beads threaded through. She was the only person in the seating area of the restaurant, there were noises coming from the kitchen in the back, but aside from their hostess, Pamela and Harley were the only two in the front of the restaurant. The hostess led them past a plastic guardian lion painted gold, and to a booth against the wall. She placed down their menus and said she’d be back in a few minutes to get their order.

“Hey Harley, is it _always_ this quiet in here?” Pamela asked, once their hostess had disappeared into the back

“Oh yeah, this place is a front for the Triads’ operations in Gotham, it’s the safest place in the city, but the food’s great too.” Harley replied

The two sat in the comfortable silence for a few moments, until the hostess returned.

“Can I get the number 32, extra spicy, and a veggie egg roll?” Harley asked

“No probs, and you ma’am?” The hostess asked Pamela

“Number thirteen, the tofu stir fry, and an extra side of your pickled daikon.”

“You’ve been here before...” Harley said, deflating

“It’s... 20 minutes here and back to the house, I’ve had it delivered.” Pamela answered sheepishly

“I was excited to introduce you to this place”

“Oh Harley-“ Pamela said, reaching across to take her hand “that’s sweet.”

Harley felt herself warming at Pamela’s touch, and a different feeling grew deep in her stomach, it wasn’t the longing that had plagued her since she met Pamela and her guests, and it wasn’t the fear that had ruled her life for so long, it was... different, burning and hungry, it made Harley want to _do_ things, like pounce across the table and kiss the red haired beauty, or fling the table out of the way and worship her new friend.

_Oh_ the normal part of Harley’s brain, one not traumatized and scrambled by the years of Jack’s abuse, said _This must be what sexual attraction is meant to feel like_.

Harley had had sex before, of course she had, _some of it even consensual_ her brain supplied, but she had never really liked it, never really understood how it made people crazy, until now.

“So, Harley, what do you like to do?” Pamela asked, interrupting the silence

“You sure it’s such a good idea to ask me questions after yesterday?” Harley replied coyly

“These are... a little safer than the questions I was asking yesterday, more along the lines of getting to know you, rather than... ‘please tell me about your trauma in excruciating detail.’”

“I don’t... really know, Pam. That sounds sad doesn’t it? I have... some trouble getting excited about stuff. I liked helping Jason with his homework last night, that was fun... I like... writing? I think? Reading, for sure. It’s kinda hard to know... I’ve been told who, and what I am for so long... this is the first time I’ve been my own person. I had dreams about being a psychologist before... stuff happened, but I don’t know how much of that was me, and how much was my parents wanting it for me. Shit, I’m sorry, that’s kinda heavy.”

“Don’t apologize, I understand identity troubles. I had some of my own.”

“What about you, Pam-a-lamb? Whadda you like to do?”

“When I’m not too busy being a caretaker, you mean? I like gardening, I keep one behind the house in the warmer months... I read, sometimes far too late into the night... that’s why I heard you the night you came to us.”

Harley and Pamela got their food and ate, and continued their companionable conversation, and the rest of the evening was calm. The kids came home from school the same way as normal, Harley and Pamela did their best to help with Homework, and supper was brief, but filled with laughter and love.

It was nearly midnight when Harley cautiously rapped on the door to Pamela’s room. This was insanity, and she knew it, this was wrong in a way she couldn’t put her finger on, it was dangerous for unknown reasons. Her brain, the part of it that was whole, was screaming at her, telling her to stop, telling her to go back to bed and forget this feeling had ever existed. The rest of her; however, the rest of her urged her forward, heat filled her veins, want ate at her stomach, the image of Pamela laid out before her, like a rich, plentiful meal would not leave her mind. Harley’s lips begged to find Pamela’s against them, her hand pleaded with her, crying out to feel Pamela’s skin, her skin wanted nothing more than to feel Pamela’s teeth tearing at it.

Pamela answered the knock with a soft “come in,” and carefully laid down her book on the bedside table, fully expecting one of the kids who had a nightmare, but when Harley stepped over the threshold, Pamela dropped some of the Caretaker act, and said “Harley, you weren’t who I was expecting. What brings you to me so late at night?”

Harley didn’t respond, she chewed at her lip, looking anywhere but Pamela, and slowly walked to the bed. Sitting down, her eyes still evaded the red-haired beauty, but her heart rate spiked unhealthily, and her breathing was in overdrive. Pamela, who thought Harley might be having a panic attack, reached out and touched her shoulder, to which Harley responded by crashing her lips against the caretaker’s. Pamela reacted slowly, surprise was her first thought, and then the same hunger that Harley felt, which made her hands wander and dig into Harley’s waist, and then- Harley broke the kiss, pulled away, like she had been scalded. She breathed heavily, they both did, and their pupils were blown wide, and then, Harley ran.


	4. Whirlpool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Low Tide isn’t the lowest you can be. Harley runs, and Pamela follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Explicit Domestic Violence and Depiction of (Almost) Sexual Assault.
> 
> IF THE ABOVE CONTENT WARNINGS TRIGGER YOU IN ANY WAY, SKIP A LARGE PORTION OF THIS CHAPTER. I’ve placed two sets of pound signs (###) if you have trouble with any of the above Content Warnings, do not read anything between those two sets of symbols. This chapter gets graphic.
> 
> Please, please, please take care of yourselves. If you have to skip this chapter in order to do so, please do, it won’t hurt my feelings, you all deserve to be safe, that’s why these content warnings and tags exist. Be safe, be kind, better times are ahead.
> 
> Love, AnaisSilveas

Pamela tried to follow her, did follow her for a time, down the stairs, past the kitchen where Jason was stealing a cookie, out the front door, but Harley was too fast, and too far ahead. Pamela stopped, shouting for the blonde woman in the middle of the street. It was dark, people knew better than to be out, knew that dangerous folks liked to roam after dark, but Harley was running, and Pam needed her back.

Angry, and upset, Pamela returned to her home. Her bare feet met concrete stairs and she shivered, both because of the cold, and the thought of Harley out in it. Jason was waiting for her inside, holding a blanket and a questioning look. Pamela accepted the blanket, but refused to answer the question she could see on his mind, instead telling him to go to back to bed. She didn’t know how to react to... any of this. Harley’s kiss was hungry, and needy, but also vulnerable, she was terrified of what she was doing, like she wasn’t fully in control of herself. She had enjoyed it though, they both had, that couldn’t be denied, and neither could Pamela’s own attraction to the blonde woman, no one could say that Harley was unattractive on her own, but her mannerisms, the way she talked, her accent that would appear randomly, Pamela found herself smiling just thinking about it, but she hadn’t been in a relationship since undergrad. Hadn’t kissed anyone since... Woodrue, and not truly, passionately, _consensually,_ since that girl in Seattle.

“Fuck.” Pamela muttered, sighing with her whole body. “I’m gonna have to wake up Selina.”

Pamela had to call twice, Selina didn’t answer the first, and almost didn’t answer the second, but picked up on the last ring, whispering “What do you need, Pam?”

“I need you to find out everything you can about Harley Quinn. Um... now, if you can.” Pamela said, pacing back and forth in her office

“Pam, hun, it’s three in the morning, I can’t-“

“She ran away, she’s out on the streets in pajamas, with no shoes. It’s fifteen degrees, no shelter is gonna take her in. I’m worried she’s gonna go back to whoever hurt her, or somewhere worse, Selina, you have to, please!”

The crack and worry in Pamela’s voice told Selina all she needed to know. Pamela heard her quietly say something to whoever else was in the room with her, supposedly Bruce, and then Selina was back on the phone, narrating her actions to Pam.

“Alright, Love, I’m logging into the DHHS database now. Um, you said Harley Quinn was her name? Like ‘Q’ ‘U’ ‘I’ ‘N’ ‘N’ ?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Pamela replied, doing her best not to scream it

“Alright, let’s see... Um, birth-certificate change and name change... Last name was... Quinzel. Is that Important?”

“I don’t think so?”

“Hmm... um, actually got an address files on a police report... three months ago? Domestic disturbance. Shit, that’s like... down the street from Ace Chemicals, fucking community housing.”

“That’s gotta be where that bastard who hurt her lives.”

“Alright, I’m gonna call Gotham PD, get them to send out patrols, see if they can catch her on the street.”

“You know they’re gonna take too long, Selina. Give me the address.”

“Pam-“

“Give me the address!”

Pamela was wrong, of course, Low Tide isn’t the lowest a person could be, no the lowest you can be is sucked to the bottom of a whirlpool, pulled lower, and lower, every passing second, struggling and getting nowhere, until you’re too far underwater, until the pressure crushes your body, and all that’s left is your broken, shattered corpse. Harley tried all of the shelters in the East End, each and every one, she tried churches, the Synagogue, even a mosque, but no one answered. No one took her in, no one pulled her out of her whirlpool. Harley still wasn’t even sure why she’d ran. She enjoyed kissing Pamela, and it seemed like Pam had too, but something in the back of her mind lit up, like a bolt of lightning, and screamed “YOU’RE NOT SAFE! STOP! YOU’LL GET HURT,” and then memories came, memories of Jack’s hands on her, memories of her pushing him away, memories of his sharp fingernails digging into her cheeks, and then her thighs, memories of being too weak, too scared. She had to run, had to escape, but now here she was. Climbing the steps back to the man that had caused those memories in the first place. She had nowhere left to go. She was at the bottom of the whirlpool, and all Pam was gonna find was her body, washed ashore.

Pamela was running as fast as her legs could carry her. She’d dressed faster than she thought possible, and unlocked a drawer in her nightstand she never thought she’d have to open. Her Father’s Smith and Wesson hadn’t seen the light of day since his funeral, hadn’t been removed from its felt lined case in ten years. It’s wooden grip felt strangely comfortable in Pamela’s hand, it’s snub nosed barrel looked out menacingly, ready for its grim task. This was the gun that was going to end that bastard’s reign of terror over Harley.

###

The section 8 housing, affectionately known by locals as “the Vat,” due to its proximity to Ace Chemicals, was not really that far from Pamela’s, but the East End is a labyrinth of ratways and alleys that looked more like a jigsaw puzzle on a map than any real city planning. It took longer than Pamela had hoped for her to navigate through the, surprisingly empty, streets and to the address Selina had given her. Unsurprisingly, Gotham P.D. had also still not arrived. Screaming was not an uncommon sound in The Vat, what was an uncommon sound however, was the sound of pounding footsteps running up the metal stairs of the building, footsteps running towards the screaming, presumably to stop whoever it was extracting those screams.

Pamela recognized Harley’s voice, even as a howl of pain, she was determined to end that scream, determined to put a bullet in the head of whoever was causing it. Harley was a _Human Being_ _Goddammit!_ No human should ever have to be put in that much pain. Fear tried to creep into Pamela’s chest, to suffocate her, or stop her heart, but the rage, and determination pushed it aside. _Fear can be dealt with later, but I am not too late._

Pamela summoned all her strength once she reached the apartment number listed in the address. She wasn’t sure what she would see once inside, or what she would do, but she had to get in, so she reared back, lifted her leg, and kicked as hard as she could. The cheap, fiber board door fell inwards, ripped from its hinges. Pamela took in the scene before her, and her sight went red.

Harley was sprawled on the floor, her borrowed pajamas ripped apart, leaving her bare on the floor. Her cheeks were bloody and bruised, more crescent scars littered her skin. Standing above her was a short man, thin and white. His hair was dyed a sickly green at the ends and his grin was wild and malicious. His spindly fingers had been on his belt buckle before his door had been kicked down, but were now spread, his hands reaching towards the ceiling. Harley had gone quiet, her screams becoming sobs that racked her body as she curled into a ball.

“Hey now, who-“

Jack didn’t have the opportunity to finish his sentence before Pamela pulled the trigger. The revolver roared once, kicking back into Pamela’s wrist, where she heard a small snap. The bullet traveled fast and straight, plowing into the flesh beneath Jack’s belt buckle.

“FUCK! Who The Fuck-“ He screamed, but Pamela pulled the trigger again, ignoring the pain in her wrist, where she heard another snap, and the revolver roared again, this time putting a bullet into Jack’s skull, right below his right eye.

###

When Gotham P.D. arrived, they found a not unfamiliar scene: a dead drug dealer, and two vulnerable woman. One of the officers, a small time beat cop named Simpson, wanted to pursue a case against the redhead, who clearly had a gun in her coat pocket, but no one would’ve testified against her. Both women were taken to a hospital, where Harley’s broken cheekbone and various other wounds, along with Pamela’s broken wrist were taken care of.

Breakfast the next morning was quiet and late, Harley and Pamela had both slept until eleven, so none of the kids had gone to school, Jason explaining what he knew to Dick and Barbara, both of whom had heard about the dead drug dealer in separate phone calls that morning. Pamela helped Harley downstairs that morning, holding her up with her good arm.

“Oh my god.” Cassandra whispered

“Fuck.” Jason said

“Oh no!” Damian cried

And Eddy whimpered

Cassandra and Jason both rushed to help Pamela and Harley, while Damian and Eddy both sat quietly in their seats at the kitchen table, gripping each other’s hands tightly.

“What happened?” Cassandra asked, making sure their seats were pulled out for them.

“I... don’t think we’re gonna talk about that, kids.” Pamela answered, carefully watching Harley

Jason looked like he didn’t want to drop it, like he was going to push on, but Cassandra shot him a glance and signed something rude, so instead he asked “do you want us to make something for breakfast?”

“God no. Do you remember last time?”

Jason cringed, but nodded

“Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out. Why don’t you four go and... I don’t know listen to music, or read, we’ll uh... we’ll eat in the living room today.”

The kids all filed out and Pamela was left alone in the kitchen with Harley, whose gaze was distant, cloudy. She was silent as well, hadn’t spoken since the ride to the hospital. Pamela was tempted to try and snap her out of it, do something to bring her back to reality, but she was afraid she’d break Harley, who was so vulnerable, so fragile after being re-exposed to her trauma. Pamela sighed quietly as she stood up and started rummaging through the cabinets. As she did, she was reminded of a song from a tv show that Dick and Barbara had loved, it was in reruns when they watched it, but they had loved that song, so she sang it now while she worked, changed only slightly.

It began slowly, a soft humming, and then Pamela’s voice grew, softly and slowly she sang “Leaves from the vine, Falling so slow, Like fragile tiny shells, drifting in the foam, little soldier girl, comes marching home, brave soldier girl, comes marching home.”

She sang it again, a few times, it’s short, and leaves one longing for more, but it’s passionate, and calm, and befitting her situation. On the fourth, or maybe fifth repetition, while Pamela was still searching for something to cook, Harley’s voice interrupted her song.

“I’m sorry.” Was all she could get out before she began sobbing

Pamela dropped to her knees, and rubbed Harley’s back saying “oh, honey, don’t apologize, not for anything.”

“I was so stupid, I couldn’t stop myself, from doing any of it.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe.”


End file.
